The Vengeance of Eight
by Aloneinthelabyrinth
Summary: Continuation of The Fall of Five. We had strength in numbers, the numbers which are dwindling down drastically. Five have fallen, unable to achieve the restoration of Lorien. We the survivors are separated with impossible odds. But who doesn't like a challenge? I am Number Nine and I will avenge the fallen. Major Spoiler alert.
1. Chapter 1

**_The Vengeance of Eight_**

_**Author's Note: **Only a few days after The Fall of Five and I'm already writing - I blame the cruel cliffhanger at the end. Why Pittacus Lore, why? Nevertheless it inspired me to write a continuation which I will do my best to upkeep; I've already wrote three chapters just a bit of editing is needed. And as I'm British I should warn you some words are spelled slightly differently - colour etc._

_Friendly reminder I do not own Lorien Legacies that goes to the brilliant, yet merciless Pittacus Lore._

_Similar to how the Fall of Five started, this is the aftermath of both battles which the book ended on, and if you hadn't realized already, it's major spoiler time._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_**Nine**_

Camping isn't as much fun as I thought it would be. The vast everglades once full of wonder and adventure now have the stony allure of death. Despite the humid Florida heat everything feels cold, deadly cold. If the Loric Elders had put some blankets or hot chocolate in our chests it would have been deeply appreciated.

"We should move on," Six says double knotting her boots, eyes darting at me then quickly at Marina her tone soothing slightly, "The Mogs won't stop looking for us, let's not make their job any easier."

It's weird hearing anybody speak, after escaping the familiar sound of Mogadorian weaponry and Six and Seven murmuring about healing no one's said a single word. We suffered in silence.

Slowly, Marina nods her chocolate eyes vacant. Clearly she's had no sleep; the dark shadows circling her eyes and her ashen skin are pure giveaways. I wouldn't be surprised if she just heaped into a ball and started snoring, but slowly but surely, she manages to get onto her feet before grabbing her chest.

It takes me a while to notice both Loric girls are looking at me, Six giving the ever so famous pissed off look while Marina stares through me as if I was nothing. I hate to admit it but I've deserved that look. Heck, I deserved to die of my wounds in the everglades, I deserved to be stabbed instead of Eight; I provoked Five not him, and yet here I am, alive. When really it should be Eight in front of them.

Only the good die young.

I grunt and get to my feet, ignoring the blurring visions, ignoring that the bile in the back of my throat is having some kind of fiesta. My only mission to grab my chest and escape this damn place.

"Nine, quit loitering," Six snaps looking as if nothing would please her more than to throw a lightning bolt at me.

Effortlessly, my chest sails into my hands, the telekinesis as natural as the movement of my arm, and I mock salute Six, "Ready to report to duty sir."

Even my mocking doesn't sound right; it should have been Eight's voice joking along with Six.

Six growls, actually growls at me, "For the love of God Nine, would it kill you to stop being so annoying. It's already ended up with one Garde dead and frankly I don't know about you but I don't want another one due to your lame remarks."

Chick's got a short fuse today.

"And where were you when Eight was stabbed?" the words fly out of my lips and Six's olive skin turns burning red.

Shit. Double shit. The legacy of turning back in time and trying to erase what I said would be real useful right now, turning into ash due to a lightning strike is not on my to do list. Although the legacy would be more useful if I could go as far back as before Eight's death, maybe being able to keep quiet.

The sky crackles and grey clouds appear in the blue horizon, smothering the sun. The humid air turns to a bitter harsh wind, "You better shut up now Nine," Six hisses through her teeth.

"Enough," Marina's voice overpowers Six's storm and both of us face the healer. It's the first time she's looked remotely alive after her near brutal murder of Five and I'm relieved there's some fighting spirit left in her, "Eight wouldn't want you two to fight like this."

As soon as Marina mentioned Eight, Six's fierce dark clouds retreated to soft white clouds and her eyes less resembled steel. She bites her lip still gazing straight at me, "Marina's right he wouldn't."

Six turns on her heel picking up the maps she could hardly navigate before the battle and spends a few seconds scanning the sheet, "If we reach the coast and keep following we can make it into Mississippi and then we can get a car. Make our way to John and the others in Chicago."

"The penthouse is screwed," I wrinkle my nose.

Six raises her eyebrows as Marina continues, "While you were… out, Five told us that Nine's penthouse was getting raided by the Mogadorians. We weren't the only ones who had a battle. It seemed they wanted Ella in particular."

Six purses her lips the disdain in her voice is obvious, "Right. The next move would for us to all communicate telepathically with Ella and ask about what they're doing and join. John wouldn't let her go easily."

"Unless they're separated. We can't even tell if the kid is dead or not," I mutter twisting my pipe back and forth.

"Eight would have been optimistic right now" Marina whispers quietly. I'm not sure if she meant for either of us to hear her but judging by Six's fallen face we both have.

"Well Eight's dead," I put bluntly and ignore the narrowing eyes. "It sucks, but we can't go reminiscing about him, Eight would want us to get up our asses and give the fight of our lives killing a few Mogs especially for him. And I'm not planning on ignore his wishes."

"It was your recklessness that got Eight killed," Six looked at me in the eyes, "Eight may want us to destroy Mogs but he probably wants you to be a lot less reckless too."

Crap, Six has got me good. I could probably take her on in hand-to-hand combat, but with harsh remarks I hate to admit it, but it is a losing battle.

"Seriously both of you.." Marina's threat trailed off, "Whatever happened at Chicago couldn't have gone too badly… We have no extra scars on our ankle which means at least John's made it out alive. And we just have to hope Ella, BK, Sarah, Sam and Malcolm are okay for now too."

Rubbing her temples Six murmurs, " I guess. Let's just go."

* * *

_**Four**_

"Ashwood estates? It's a pretty classy neighbourhood for a Mogadorian hideout," Sarah says stroking the incredibly tired, yet surviving BK in her lap.

"But who would expect an alien race attempting to obliterate earth to live in the nicest mansion complex in Washington D.C?" Adam says his fingertips lightly tapping on the car wheel.

We've made quick time thanks to Sarah driving like a speed demon and a quick changeover between drivers. Adam's pale skin and dark eyes still unnerve me but Malcolm's casualness and ease around him prevents me from protesting. I get a better feeling off Adamus than I ever did around Five. That must be a good sign, I really hope it is; recently only tragedies happen.

"You'd think the Mogs would live somewhere more evil, like Mordor," Sam mumbles placing the healing stone on his top right shoulder, wincing slightly as his bruises reduced.

"And what is Lorien, the shire?" I ask.

Sam laughs, "Something like that. Didn't know you were a Lord of the Rings fan man."

Despite the light-hearted banter, a dark cloud settles above the group with the mystery of who the scar belonged to. I don't have it in my heart to tell Sam about the nightmare Ella and I shared before the burning sensation in my ankle, I can't have him worried sick about Six being the next fallen Garde member especially when it's not confirmed. I just hope for everyone's sake it's Five.

I don't want to imagine that I've already seen the last of Marina's motherly smile, or Six's hard glare or Eight's cheeky grin which makes Marina giggle. And right now I could really do with one of Nine's really lame gross jokes.

Coming to think about it, the whole betrayal had been obvious; Five's acting skills needed serious work. His naivety was too much, him and Nine disagreed were too often to be normal, his sneering comments and his attitudes towards humans and the constant wanting to be alone. But I never wanted Five to be a bad guy which is why the signs were ignored.

I was the delegated leader and that's ended up with two split up groups, a dead Garde, another Garde which betrayed the Loric cause and a missing Ella. Not to mention that half of Chicago is swallowed in flames and the bounty of my head in now twice the size, now moving me up the most wanted list. Nice job Johnny Boy.

And even though I want Adamus to be a bad guy, rip him apart and avenge the fallen Garde, I don't. He's one of us.

I managed to tell the others about Five's real alliance, to Malcolm's and Sam's relief - his Dad wasn't a traitor after all but that meant Six was in mortal danger so his relief was short-lived. And I informed Sarah, Malcolm and Adam about the fourth scar which resulted in misty eyes and trembling lips.

My eyes keep darting to my covered ankle, it still stings slightly the raw skin throbbing at any form of movement. I place my hands on the fourth scar and I wait for the icy feeling to urge out of my fingertips, for some serious pain removal. But nothing happens, you can't heal the pain of losing someone.

I open my mouth, trying to mention Ella, yet for the eighth time today, I close it quickly. What I saw in Ella's vision, I don't fully understand it myself, and whenever I try to co-ordinate my thoughts it's difficult not to make Ella seem like a mass murderer working along with Setrakus Ra. We've already experienced one Loric traitor, I can't make it seem like another may be added to the list. Ella is too sweet, too kind and loving to even think about Six dying.

Sarah squeezes my hand reassuring me with a smile almost if she can track my train of thoughts, "At least we made it out alive and Ella's going to be fine too. "

"Only thanks to you three being whizzes with guns," I lightly elbow Sarah playfully in the arm, "Soon you're going to be a greater threat than the Garde."

"You can count on that," she smiles.

A brightly coloured bird caws as it transforms into a mouse in the back of the truck and crawls next to Bernie Kosar nuzzling its petite head against his paws. He groggily acknowledges the fellow Chimaera before dipping his beagle form back into Sarah's lap.

Somehow Adamus managed to find and gather all the functioning Chimaera together and transport them to Chicago and being able to save my butt. And I'm eternally grateful to the Mog defector and it helps the urge of not wanting to kill him.

When he recounted the story, how the animals had tested on - one making horrific sounds another with an amputated limb- bile rose to the back of my throat. It's bad enough they killed four members of the Garde, tortured Nine and Six, killing all our Cepands, but this was the last straw. I will leave no mercy for the Mogadorians.

Sarah was even more furious than I; her blue eyes resembled ice and if there was any Mogadorians in a square mile her the wrath on her face could have obliterated them right there and then. It was only then when the memories of her love for animals resurfaced; her passion for Mark's dog and how she remained with them when his house was burning, her trip to Colorado to build animal shelters and how her eyes lightened up when we walked BK together in Paradise.

The remaining Chimaera had a problem of constantly changing forms, although Adamus mentioned it becoming less frequent now they were around BK and one which particularly warmed up to Adamus – Dust, seemed in utter control.

"Are there any Mogadorian children in the base?" Sarah asks quietly tracing patterns on BK's blood stained fur.

"Not underground – that mainly consists of vatborns and older Mogadorians in the estate there are the rare few. We have a dwindling population of women and mothers. There's a high mortality rate for women during birth," Adam states.

"Did your mother ever.." Sarah trails.

"She survived both the birth of me and my little sister," Adam's tone was dead flat. His mother was obviously a sensitive topic.

"You have a little sister?" Malcolm asks for the first time looking above the laptop screen he's be scanning for the past few hours. So far there's been little news on the others.

"She doesn't like associating me as part of the family, almost as much as my father," Adam's smile is wry and bitter, "She probably has dreams of destroying me with her pet Piken."

"You have a new family now," Malcolm looks solemnly at Adam and hesitates for a second, "It wasn't that cheesy when I sounded it out in my head."

We all laugh, even Adam.

"It's a fairly dyfunctional family Adam, you have been warned," Sam grins looking out of the window, "How long have we've been driving for? My back's killing me."

"Eleven hours I make it," Sarah says looking at the modified clock on the car, telling not only times in the current location but London, Paris and Tokyo too.

Eleven hours ago a member of the Garde died, and almost BK if Adamus and Dust hadn't managed to find his mangled body. Eleven hours of driving in city lanes and turning in a trail managing to throw Mogadorians off our trails by stops in Kentucky and briefly in Tennessee.

"We're almost near Ohio," Adam clears his throat.

We all know what that means, we're only a few hours off from Paradise where Sarah's parents remain and Sam's lone mother, where Malcolm's papers are kept. Where old friends; Emily and Mark lie unaware of dangers ahead.

If Six stayed instead of going to Florida she could have grabbed Sam – they could have talked to his mother and briefly look and grab some of Malcolm's paper. I long for another look of the skeleton, to see how tall Pittacus Lore really is, but now is the time for resistance.

We need to prepare an attack for Ashwood Estates. We need to make sure we can go in undetected with a fault-proof plan and attack the Mogadorians right at the heart. Paradise is not a stop we can afford to take.

* * *

_**Nine**_

Every alligator we pass seems like a threat and it surprises me every time when it appears to not be a Mogadorian abomination. I want to rip apart every reptile I see, but that would be too obvious for the Mogs - too find us all they would have to do would be to follow the trail of alligator parts.

"I always wanted to go to Florida," Six says, "I wanted to ride Space Mountain with Katrina as I thought it was always related somehow to the Loric. Now I can't wait to leave."

"I never took you for a roller coaster chick," I grin slightly trying to imagine the grey eyed girl so innocently wanting to live the Disney dream.

"Nor did John," Six's mouth twitches, "He still wants to go there now."

"Why doesn't that surprise me coming from Johnny Boy?"

I hear a rustle at my left as Marina concentrates on the map, "If we run we could reach Naples in a few hours and if we manage to get into the city we can steal a car – escaping Florida will be much more easier."

"I'm liking the sound of that," Six picks up the steady jogging pace we've been trolling for hours. The thought of food and drink, and possibly a few city girls I could spend the limited time in Naples in is the fuel I ride on to make me increase my speed.

"Has anyone got anything from the little squirt yet?" I ask as we pass through the edge of the swamp areas passing the National Park boundaries, the surroundings a blur.

"Nothing," Marina sighs. I'm still not fully sure if she's recovered from her nightmare. The next best thing would be to communicate through our chests but now with Five I'm not sure that's possible."

"All the more reason to get to Naples as soon as possible – if there's a fight in the John Hancock center the world will sure know about it," Six says.

"They better have not ruined Sandor's suit collection, he would have murdered me if there was a speck of Mog ash on his Italian finest," I murmur.

"Didn't think you were one for fashion Nine," Six breathes her chest heaving through the strain of a mixture of running and jogging for hours.

"Someone here needs to know how to dress and since it's not you two, it has to be the badass."

"Slow down," Marina warns. We've had to do it a few times – despite avoiding busy roads and any human contact there's always the odd few, but now we're entering a city and three sweat covered teenagers may draw unwanted suspicion.

"First things first," Six sighs as her strides become less frequent, "Food and a shower."

* * *

**First chapter completed! Please review I'd love to know your thoughts about how the fanfic is, the ending of the Fall of Five and any details you wish to discuss. And if there are any question you want answered, put it below but I think I have a plan to cover most of them. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer****: Unfortunately I was not the chosen Garde to be Pittacus Lore. All characters belong to him.**

_**Author's note: **__Thanks so much for the reviews and I just want to give you all muffin baskets. I should have made it more clear – as it takes place a few hours after the events of the Fall of Five John did manage to find BK and heal him in time; although he was in pretty bad shape. But you guys and your sweet comments made my day._

**Chapter 2 **

_**Six**_

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Marina asks caressing the scissors in her hand, "Your hair looks so lovely the way it is."

Making Marina in charge of haircut duty was one of my better decisions of the day, giving her something to do adds a spark in the dull chasms of her eyes. It reminds me more of what she was like before Eight died.

One of my poorer decisions was to let Nine being in charge of shopping. Although he managed to retrieve hair dye and scissors, and a lot of food – most of it packed with protein, he forgot to get anything to do with dental care, however he believed that managing to get three mobile numbers from pretty girls excused that.

I frown, my fingers sliding through my newly showered hair, "It's impractical; it's too knotty and it gets in the way and it still feels like there's blood in the ends."

Marina slightly winces at the mention of blood but the scissors are still firm in her hand, "How short do you want it?"

"Make it boyish short," I say looking in the mirror a pair of unrecognizable grey eyes staring back. Eyes that shouldn't belong to a seventeen year old.

"Ok," Marina begins to snip at my hair, making sure every strand goes into the toilet. The more I look at my dyed hair the more I feel like it resembles straw – I'll be glad to get rid of it as soon as possible.

In a matter of minutes my hair resemble boyish spikes. It makes me look older; my cheekbones sharper and my eyes fiercer. I've never been one to care about what I look like, but I like this look, a lot.

"Perfect," I grin, running my hair through the blond spikes.

"I can't say the same for the toilet," Marina sighs as I turn to the basin. Certainly, strands of my hair have clogged up the bowl and as Marina begins to flush the toilet protests making some really weird noises.

I clear my throat, "We'll sort that out later."

"What's up Tinkerbelle?" Nine leans against the door frame, it squeaking slightly at his weight. It looks almost comical – a giant in a normal house.

"Seriously Nine, let's keep the nicknames to a minimal," I stand up, "Anyway it's your turn – time to get rid of your long flowing locks."

"I don't trust pretty girls with a pair of scissors," Nine shrugs about to turn out of the door but Marina pins him there with telekinesis. Nine looks alarmed – it's the second time in less than a day he's been rendered helpless due to a more powerful telekinesis

"No excuses," Marina twirls the scissors and beckons Nine to sit down.

Nine opens his mouth, about to argue and I really would kill to have a legacy that would silence Nine, but he thinks better of opposing Marina, especially with her deadly new ice legacy, "Sure thing Ice Queen."

Marina ignores the nickname and begins snipping away at Nine's hair. She cuts his hair even shorter than mine, his long dark hair cut short and he can barely run his fingers through them. After spending a few minutes checking himself out in the mirror, he blinks slowly before saying, "Man I really did need a haircut."

"Yes you did," Marina smiles slightly, admiring her haircutting skills. "Now you have the bad boy look to go with your image."

"Than- Are you suggesting I wasn't bad boy before?" Nine crosses his arms jokingly.

"Your hair was too feminine Nine," I joke and as all of us laugh it's a sudden relief. There's a little bit of hope in all the darkness.

Marina picks up the black hair dye which I contemplated on using it myself when I purchased it in the store and looks at the jet black colour longingly, "Is it alright Six if I use this colour for my hair?"

I nod, "I'm thinking of sticking with blonde for a while. What's the sudden change?"

Marina's eyes shine, "Brown is boring, predictable… Safe. I don't want to be safe anymore I want to be dark, dangerous and deadly. I want the Mogadorians to see me as a threat. I'm not going to be the girl in the back I'm going to be noticeable"

* * *

I sip my second cup of coffee reading the article for what must be the fifteenth time, words jumble in my head dancing about. The bitter black liquid makes me pucker my lips, I don't like the stuff necessarily but falling asleep while searching the latest news on the John Hancock center is something I need to be fully awake for.

Each article blames the notorious John "Bomber" Smith, and the Mogs have a more recent photo of him carrying a Mog blaster which they must have received in Dulce. The picture does John no justice, while he appears to be his handsome self, his eyes are unforgiving and the way he's holding the Mog cannon only adds to his terrorist image.

Nicely played Mogadorians.

Sam and Malcolm are mentioned in the article too; both confirmed to be working alongside with John Smith, a few articles which Marina skimmed through gave Malcolm a ludicrous backstory- he disappeared without a trace to continue illegally making weapons and assisting John Smith with the equipment, taking over the role of Henri Smith – John's Smith father who he had quickly disposed of.

If the case wasn't so serious I would have laughed. The Mogs lack creativity in the battlefield and follow simple brute force, but when it comes to articles anything counts.

Sarah's picture is everywhere too, a reward is offered for knowledge of her whereabouts. The picture of her almost makes me smile. It's back in Arkansas and she's armoured with pistols, much different from the stereotypical cheerleader which I dubbed her before. I read quotes of Sarah's fellow schoolmates and one catches my eye, while the majority claimed Sarah was a lovely girl and Bomber Smith drove her into insanity, one claims "Sarah's not a murderer, never has been never will be. I think this is stupid."

Smirking, I chug more coffee down, obviously whoever said that has not seen Sarah with a pistol.

It's the name that makes my blood go cold, the warm coffee unable to work its magic – Mark James. He was Sarah's ex, the one that helped during the battle and continued to look after Sarah when John left with me, BK and Sam. My breath catches as I read the next sentence "Although Mark James disappeared a few hours after his statement – his whereabouts unknown."

Guess the Mogs got him too.

Nine is pacing back and forth behind me, and I'm grateful he's done it following the laws of gravity. The internet café we're in is moderately quiet, but they'd still notice if a teenage guy was hanging on the ceiling, "I can't believe they let the place burn. I swear if I see John-"

"You'll kill him?" Marina finishes his sentence, eyebrows raised. Her dark hair makes her tanned olive skin glow while making her eyes darker. She's definitely got the more dangerous look going on.

Nine gritted his teeth, thankfully despite the one or two blunt comments he's been better behaved towards Marina, knowing he has to tread his ground carefully if he wants both eyes, "No I guess I'll let him live."

"I finally found an article which you're in Nine, the workers at John Hancock were reluctant in giving your name but I guess they finally caved in. Now Stanley Worthington is dubbed as a "wannabe Bomber Smith"," Marina sighs drinking tea, "They found the equipment you have, the cameras being able to look over the whole of Chicago, they said you were planning to blow the whole city up – go the extra mile."

"I would never blow Chicago up," Nine speaks loudly.

I place my fingers on my lip, indicating at the lone waitress wiping tables. She's about fifty, decorated in moles with make-up applied to her face like its sun lotion. But it doesn't mean she's deaf or unable to watch the news.

I scroll through recent updates, there are articles with pictures of Marina, Nine and I, us three being named members of John Smith's gang, known as the 'Bomb Squad'. Despite it being completely untrue, I kind of like it.

There are no mentions of Five, but mentions of Eight being killed in a shoot off by Florida officials when refusing to surrender. It makes me furious – if John read this article he would have just believed Eight had fallen in battle, not that Eight sacrificed himself for Nine.

But then even if the article was more truthful, Eight's still dead.

"Thank Lorien, we don't look like our pictures much," Nine squints at the screen over Marina's shoulder, "I've at least grown a few inches and don't look like that much of a caveman."

"Oh really," I mutter. But he's right, we look way older – Marina is unrecognizable from the photo in Spain – her face is thinner, older, my dark hair is short and blonde and Nine almost looks like a reasonably sized teenager beforehand.

"But they know it's us three travelling together, it even states it in the article," Marina's eyes dart over the screen, "Apparently Nine is out of control and no one must approach him when seen, they've got to ring a hotline."

I smile, "Sounds about right."

Nine nods and flexes his arms, "Yeah, no one can handle these guns."

Ignoring Nine's obnoxious comment, I swivel my chair positioning myself to face both my fellow Garde members, "There's no news on the other's whereabouts. Nor anything on Ella."

Both Marina and Nine's faces fall, there would have been comfort if John was spotted in Illinois later on, or an article claiming Ella as a sidekick or even a hostage. Even if Nine refused to admit it, he enjoyed both John's and Ella's company.

"That means the Mogs don't know where they are though," Marina sighs, "We can only count that as good. And we never had any future plans that we told Five, so anywhere is safe."

"Except from Paradise," I say out of my coffee mug. Marina looks slightly confused at first before registering that Paradise was where John, Sarah, Sam and Malcolm used to live.

"So, what's next ladies?" Nine asks bouncing up and down. I knew it was a dangerous thing to allow him caffeine.

"First we need to train. I've got a new legacy that needs some honing, and all of our telekinesis is pretty weak to Five. If we do what Six suggested before, leave Florida to Mississippi where the lookout is less we can probably rent a place," Marina offers.

Nine's excitement bubbles down a little, despite a dead Eight and almost dying himself he's still ready for another battle but I control the urge of breaking his nose for Marina. She may act hard now but she's still delicate, the layer of steel around her is brittle.

"That's a good idea," I agree.

"You think it's best to miss out on the action. I bet Johnny is having more fun," Nine sighs dramatically sitting on the table with such force his coffee bounces up and splashes on his knee, "Ah shit that's hot."

The waitress looked at the coffee, then at Nine, "You're clearing that up honey."

Nine put his thumbs up, "Noted. Five stars for the service by the way."

Marina chuckles beside me, "Not like your penthouse is it? Welcome to the poor world Nine."

"Not that poor. I've got Sandor's credit card in my pocket, untraceable by anyone, even the John Hancock centre. So how about we buy some swanky clothes, a nice car, and let's cruise our way out."

* * *

After we let Nine chose the most indestructible car, we all crawl into the massive vehicle. Nine pats the wheel lovingly a half-crazed smile on his lips. "Ladies met the Toyota Hilux. This baby survives drops, drowning and crashes. Any suggestions on what to call this beauty? How about the Nine mobile?"

"We're not calling the car that," I tap the outside of the car, "Wouldn't it be better if we got an armoured car, one that Mog canons would be unable to penetrate."

Nine shook his head, "Not a good enough reason to use the word 'penetrate' Tinkerbelle. How would it look if three teenagers drove cars that are linked to gangs, huh? Kind of yells 'I'm in the bomb squad'."

"Fair enough," I mumble, "Let's just get out of here. Florida really sucks."

I want to see Sam again; I want to give him a proper kiss. Not a peck on the cheek, like the one I was about to give just before we disappeared off to the everglades. I need to check if he's still kept his promise, I'm fed up of people dying on me.

The car drive is peaceful. Both Nine and I respect Marina's need to be quiet, I want to play the game Katarina and I used to play – strategies on how to attack Mogs. But I think we've all had a little too much of Mogs, even Nine.

Nine's been quiet since the death, unnaturally quiet and the darkness in his onyx eyes have expanded, the eyes that refuse to look directly at another's. He's avoiding both of us as best as he can, making jokes and annoying comments as a cover up. Guilt is swallowing him up like the cruel demon it is.

Marina, on the other hand, almost appears stronger. After a few hours had taken its toll, she reluctantly accepted the fate of Eight, and the emotional bond between the two has given Marina someone to avenge, someone who fuels her burning desire to kill the Mogs. Exactly what we needed.

We eventually pass the Florida border into Alabama and only then can I manage to relax slightly, we've escaped the state which is high alert for us. The car windows are rolled down, the birds chime delicately and if I close my eyes I feel like a normal teenager having a road trips with friends. Only us and the freeway, the gentle breeze our friend.

"Stop the car," I yell. The words are strangled and Nine stomps his foot on the wheel causing the tires to screech. I don't worry about that, especially if the car can survive high drops.

"The Mogs trailing us?" Nine asks with his back tense, ready to launch himself.

Marina yawns and wakes from her nap after the sudden disturbance, she blinks slowly and she seems troubled – the nightmares have finally caught on to her, "What is it Six?"

"It doesn't feel right going here," I say.

"Hold on sweetheart. You said a few hours ago, let's listen to warrior princess and make our way east which sounds like a decent plan. And now you're backing out, you better have a good reason for it?" Nine frowns.

"I think we should follow the wind. It lead me to John a few months ago. We can trust it."

"Right," Nine prolongs the word making him sound as if I'm crazy. But I know I'm right, heading west would be a mistake.

I step out of the car, ignoring Nine's demand to get my ass back in it. I spread out my arms, as free as an eagle and as I close my eyes, a map of the US enclosed in my hands I feel the direction of the wind. The sun' setting now and I use that as my compass, "We're going to head slightly north east."

Marina pokes her head out of the car door and looks me solemnly in the eyes, "Are you sure about the wind?"

"As if my life depended on it."

Nine sighs, "Crap. I'm being outnumbered by you two aren't I?"

I walk my way over to his door, "I think it's best if I drive, I know where the wind wants us to go."

Nine grips tightly on to the wheel, "I know where North East is Six. We're going to North Carolina, Georgia area right? I'm perfectly capable of driving this thing."

"That's not our destination," A plan begins to form inside my head, I know John and the others will make their way west of Chicago, because this time we're not going to wait for the Mogs to find us, we're going to find them, "West Virginia is where we want to go."

"I like your thinking," Nine moves his limbs to the seat next to the drivers, acrobatically so, if he wasn't a giant it would have almost been elegant. He pats the seat, "It's toasty warm. Now let's go hunt down that damn base."

Marina shuffles in her seat "That's where we're going to go, the base where you and Nine were both captured, where Setrákus Ra probably is," she pauses, "And we're going to rip the base from it's very roots."

* * *

_I hoped you liked the chapter! Next chapter will include a lot of Ella, so you'll finally discover her fate. Most ships will be canon – John/Sarah, Six/Sam and Marina/Eight. Leave a review, tell me what you want to happen next! Five house points if you recognized a quote from Pitch Perfect, which I do not own for the record._


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